


Revelations

by StolenChilde



Series: John'Verse [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Domestic, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenChilde/pseuds/StolenChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s alone and restless. He leaves John with an old friend to work out some of his anxiety on a small hunt. He never expected the revelations that would arise from this seemingly innocent trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Once again a tiny bit darker but nothing unbearable, it doesn’t have a perfectly neatly wrapped ending with a shiny bow but there will always be hope at the end of the [John’Verse](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/84812.html). Welcome to story Twenty-Seven! And yes, I _did_ watch too much anime when I was younger. Please enjoy!
> 
> John’s Age: 3
> 
> Also, I finally made a banner I’m happy with. If you haven’t seen it yet and want to check it out you can find it [here](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/106896.html) or on the [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/84812.html) page.

**Revelations**

Dean poured the dry pasta into the boiling water, hissing slightly as, in his rush, a stray drop of water splashed up and struck the back of his hand. He sucked on it quickly and shook his out, then scrambled for the object of his distraction. Dean dug his cell out of the pile of papers and flipped it open with a breathless: “Hello.”

“Dean?” Sam questioned a little uncertain.

“Yeah, Sammy. Sorry, I’m in the middle of making dinner. What’s up?”

“I wasn’t aware making dinner was so strenuous,” Sam remarked teasingly.

“Shut up.” Dean opened drawer after messy drawer until he found Bobby’s mixing spoons. He frowned as he pulled out a slightly charred wooden one and rose an eyebrow at what appeared to be a bite taken out of the top of it, before he shrugged and stirred the pasta boiling away in the pot. The instructions said eight minutes for _al dente_ and Dean frowned, trying to remember if John liked chewy pasta or mushy pasta and was embarrassed that he couldn’t. It had been a pathetically long while since he cooked for his son. Dean bit his lip, set the timer and turned his full attention back to Sam.

“Dude, what do you want?” Dean tried again.

“Checking in,” Sam replied casually.

“Checking in,” Dean parroted flatly. “I think the term you’re looking for, Mr. Winchester, is checking up. Not cool, Man. I’m a grown-ass man.”

“Dean,” Sam began hesitantly.

“Sam,” Dean mocked.

“Fine,” Sam huffed. “I was trying to be gentle about it, but has Cas contacted you yet?”

“Good bye Sam, make sure Bobby keeps your ass alive.” Dean shut his phone before Sam could reply and tossed the metal contraption into the pile of papers. He shuffled through a few more and tried to find something easy and straight-forward that he could get taken care of in a few hours of daylight. He felt guilty about dropping John at a playgroup in some nowhere town, but it had been four days since Dean had heard a peep from Castiel and he needed to keep himself distracted. It would do John good to play with some other kids anyway.

Visions of Dean’s father abandoning him and Sam flashed through his head, but he shoved them away. It wasn’t the same thing. Dean tried to keep telling himself that.

The timer buzzed and startled Dean. The green-eyed man jumped up and rushed over to the stovetop to silence it. He cursed and flinched away as he stupidly stuck his bare arm through the steam in his rush. Dean congratulated his new level of idiocy but was in the end gratified that he managed to get the pasta drained without any lasting personal injury or sacrificed starchy shells. Though Dean couldn’t remember if John liked _al dente_ or mushy he did remember that John hated spaghetti noodles, though he enjoyed tomato and meat sauce. At least the ground beef hadn’t given Dean much trouble… Though he thought it should really be the other way around. Boiling water should be the easy part. Dean sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting the pasta sit temporarily in the colander and went to retrieve his three-and-a-half-year-old.

John was lying on his stomach in Bobby’s parlour in front of the fireplace. His crayons and colouring books and construction paper were spread out around him. John had a piece of pink paper in front of him and he seemed to be scratching furiously away at it. Dean came over and peered around his son’s bowed head. It was a man, with dark hair, a long coat and wings. Dean’s heart squeezed slightly. John missed Castiel too.

“Johnny, dinner’s ready,” Dean said, crouching next to John.

John looked up, turning big green eyes at Dean before nodding slowly and pushing himself to his feet. He grabbed Dean’s hand and Dean squeezed it just slightly before leading the boy into the Bobby’s messy kitchen.

“You know Monkey, if you want to hear from your pop you can just call him,” Dean tried to keep his voice casual but figured he failed at it miserably. Perhaps John was too young still to notice.

“Papa’s busy,” John mumbled. “I don’ wanna bug ‘im.”

“John,” Dean said gently. “You could never bug him, Bud. He loves you a lot.”

John shook his head violently, before scrambling up on the chair and shifting to his knees. Dean was sure to push the boy in snugly against the table and thought buying the kid a booster seat one of these days may be a bright idea. The half-rifled through parenting book, sitting on top of a pile of much older volumes at far end of the Bobby’s counter, seemed to glare at Dean accusingly. Dean ignored the taunting pages and served John his pasta. He sprinkled it with cheese and set it in front of the boy. John stared at it for a minute, his lips moving soundlessly before he picked up his spoon. He ate a few mouthfuls, getting an impressive amount of sauce around his mouth before he scrunched up his nose and pushed it away.

“Too mushy,” John explained. “Tastes funny.”

Apparently the kid liked it _al dente_ after all. Dean looked resigned over at the box of whole wheat pasta. The box had proudly proclaimed it tasted just like white and that it was perfect for kids, high in something or another. It lied.

“John, we don’t really have anything else…” Dean said hesitantly. “I really need you to eat that, Kiddo.”

John glared across the table. “No.”

“John.”

“No!”

John scrambled away from the table and ran out of the room. Dean pushed his own pasta away and dropped his head to the table with a dull thud. _I suck_.

Dean left his son to his own devices for the time being. Despite everything, Bobby’s house was ridiculously child-proofed. Anything dangerous, cursed or more than G-rated was firmly squirreled away where grabby little hands couldn’t get at it. Dean cleaned up, put the left-overs (essentially an entire meal for four) away in the fridge before going to find John.

Dean was just grateful the kid couldn’t use his angel powers yet if he was outside of Castiel’s influence. Apparently, until John got older, he was on something of an umbilical cord system with Castiel. When the angel wasn’t around, John was just your smarter than average three and a half year old, as far as powers were concerned. Castiel’s and John’s Grace were fundamentally linked. At least, that was the current working theory. They didn’t really have a sample selection to pull info from. John was the first of his kind.

When Dean did venture out of the kitchen, it ended up taking a few moments to locate the boy. He was in the basement sitting cross-legged at the threshold to the panic room, looking at it with curious eyes and his little head cocked.

Dean came over and sat next to him. “What’re you doin’, Monkey?’

“Can’t get in,” John said.

“No, sorry Kiddo. We angel-proofed it a few years back,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Why?” John turned piercing eyes to his father.

“Long story,” Dean said with a sigh. He wasn’t really feeling up to the ‘Your father was a raving psychopath for a minute there’ speech. “Why do you want to go in anyway?”

“It’s safe,” John answered. “I’m scared when Papa’s not home.”

Dean’s heart squeezed like it was being wrung through a vice and he curled his arm around John, pulling the boy tight to his side. “Johnny, you don’t have to worry. I’d never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“Is he mad?” John asked, his voice muffled in Dean’s shirt.

“No!” Dean vehemently replied.

“He’s never been away so long, afore,” John said with a pout.

Dean frowned. “Yeah… He has. A couple months back remember?”

“He was away but he wasn’t _away_ ,” John stressed. “He talked to me.”

Dean bit back the bitter, ‘must be nice,’ that threatened to tumble out. Being jealous of your own kid was stupid. Though even all those months ago, Castiel had made one check-in call via cell phone to let Dean know his task had been extended. This time, nothing, not a peep.

Dean sighed. “Tell you what, Monkey. You and me are gonna go on a little trip. I have a job I found that I can get done with real quick and it’ll give you some time to play with some other kids. Is that okay?”

John pulled away then, green eyes wide and haunted. “You’re gonna leave me?”

Dean winced. “No.”

“But…”

“I’m gonna let you hang out with some kids at a playgroup… All kinds of kids go there while their moms and dads work. It’ll only be for a few hours and I’ll be back to get you for dinner. Until then though, we’re gonna spend all sorts of time together because we have to drive. It’ll be like a road-trip. Been awhile since we went away, right?”

If John pitched a fit over this and Dean couldn’t go, the green-eyed man wasn’t sure what he would do. He felt like a guilty shit for even thinking that this was a good idea, but he wasn’t used to being this sedentary, especially when Sammy and Bobby were off on a job while Castiel was God knew where.

The minute Dean saw John’s eyes he knew his plan was a lost cause. The road trip John could get behind, but the thought of Dean leaving him with strangers, for even a minute, was not something the boy would readily agree to. Dean honestly wasn’t too keen on the idea himself. He really needed to get out of here though.

Then, Dean had a brainwave, it struck like the proverbial bolt of lightning and he scooped John up to go rifle through his newspaper clippings.

When Dean made it up stairs and skimmed the article he grinned, the job was just a stone’s throw away from an old friend. Maybe John would be cool with that? It wasn’t long at all though, until Dean was second guessing his decision. Seconds actually. Chuck was an awesome little guy sure, but leaving a three-year-old with a paranoid drunk? Dean’s pretty sure Children’s Aid would get involved if they ever caught wind of that one. Though Chuck could be pretty responsible if he needed to be. Dean recalled the Little-Supplies-Manager-Who-Could from the twisted future that never was. Maybe now that the world was still turning and the visions had probably ended Chuck would be sober? It was worth a shot. A phone call wouldn’t hurt. If Chuck sounded like he couldn’t handle it, then Dean would just resign himself to the uninspiring role of househusband, until someone got their ass back.

“Okay, leaving you with strangers was never something I was really on the track for anyway,” Dean told John. It was true. Dean was feeling a little twitchy and desperate but if it came right down to it, the green-eyed man finally accepted the fact that he likely would not have left John at the playgroup. They would have driven miles and miles, only for Dean to turn around and head home. He was sure.

Dean picked up his phone and flipped through the contacts, chose the right one and dialed. The phone was answered, shockingly, on the second ring.

“Hello?” a surprisingly sober greeting.

Dean’s day was looking up. “Hey Chuck, it’s Dean,” Dean replied.

“Dean… Look, it’s nice hear from you but I really stopped having the visio—”

“Chuck, I’m not calling to pump you for information… I’m actually calling to ask you a favour and it’s a biggy, but I’m gonna ask it anyway. If you can’t handle it, you let me know all right?”

There was dead silence for a moment before a hesitant, “Okay…?”

“So ah… I got a kid now,” Dean laughed uneasily. “Cas and I do actually.”

“Castiel, Cas…? Ah… How?” Chuck sounded understandably confused.

“Big Ol’ Miracle,” Dean explained. “Some sort of trophy prize or something from the Big Man for stopping the world from ending… Again. Anyway, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know? Not really calling to share the joyous news though, I was wondering um… You see there’s this job that needs to be tackled and I’m doing the solo thing at the moment… Er… how do you feel about kids?”

“You want me to look after a half-angel, half-hunter baby? Are you crazy?” Chuck spluttered.

Dean was impressed with the little former Prophet’s power of deduction.

Chuck continued, his voice becoming squeaky and panicked like Dean not-so-fondly recalled. “Kids are like… _Kids_ Dean. They’re alien creatures.”

Dean sighed. “All right, Man… If you can’t you—”

“I didn’t say that,” Chuck jumped in. “Just… I need to process for a minute here. He’s not gonna try and like… smite me in my sleep or anything, is he?”

“I dunno have you become a demon since we spoke last?” Dean joked.

“No, I’m not a demon,” Chuck huffed.

“Then you got nothing to worry about. Besides, if he’s away from Castiel, he’s mojo-less. Smarter than usual, I guess his motor skills are a little above average, but other than that, he’s your basic three- and-a-half-year-old,” Dean said with a shrug, though he knew Chuck couldn’t see the gesture.

“Gee… Don’t talk to a guy for five years and then you call him up to be a babysitter out of the blue,” Chuck grumbled.

“Dude, is that a yes?” Dean asked eagerly.

“I guess, Dean,” Chuck responded.

“Wait… you don’t imbibe the sauce like its water anymore, do you?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“No,” Chuck responded. “Without the visions I don’t have the migraines, without the migraines I don’t need any liquid pain-killer. So ah… Castiel’s not around?”

Dean thought that a weird question but answered anyway, “Yeah he’s off doing angel business. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure. I just should really take care of this hunt, you know? Innocent people needing saving and all. Why?”

“I just don’t want Momma-Bear storming in and smiting me either. I get the feeling he’s probably a pretty protective sort of parent,” Chuck said darkly.

“Nah, I think you're good man. He probably won’t be back for a while. My job will only take a few hours. It’ll probably take me longer to drive there, than it will to take care of the damn thing.”

“All right… See you then… Oh, hey I’ve moved.” Chuck rattled off the address.

“Thanks a lot Chuck. You’re awesome,” Dean grinned at the phone, scratching the address down on the edge of an article he had on the table.

“You have no idea,” Chuck said vaguely. “Bye Dean.”

Dean clicked off the phone and smiled at John. “This is gonna be great Johnny. You and me on the open road, then a quick visit to Daddy’s old friend and we’ll come back. Papa may even be home once we’re done. That sound cool, Buddy?”

John still looked as skeptical as a three-year-old child could look. Given that child was a half-angel child, the look was actually surprisingly skeptical but John did not verbalize any objections so Dean chalked that one up to a win, but just in case…

“Look Johnny, if we get there and you don’t wanna stay with Chuck, you just tell me okay and then we’ll head home. Chuck’s a really fun guy though, I promise. He’s even closer to your size than mine,” Dean joked.

“Okay,” John said quietly. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Dean replied gently and pressed a kiss to John’s temple.

Though Dean was eager to get on the road right the hell now, he thought it best to let the kid get a decent night’s sleep before he hauled him out on blacktop for the better part of two days. Dean wondered absently if Castiel would return in the time it took them to get there and back, but figured it was unlikely. There was still not a whisper from the angel and Dean was trying in vain not to worry. Castiel probably just got distracted with distracting angel business. John was older now and maybe Castiel felt that he didn’t need to hover quite so much. Whatever it was, Dean wasn’t at all happy with it, but he’d let it be.

xx

The following morning, Dean woke John far earlier than he had any right to wake John and the blurry eyed baby-glare that the boy shot him was evidence enough of that. Dean just grinned, ruffled John’s soft hair before kissing his head and dressing him unceremoniously. A quick teeth brushing and then John was bundled up into his car seat. Dean had packed up the Impala hours ago.

“First rule of road-tripping: greasy diner breakfast,” Dean informed his son.

John just shot Dean a flat, almost bored look and slumped down his car seat. “Tired, Daddy.”

“I know, Sport, but it’ll be great, promise. We’ll have lots of fun, maybe hit up one of the big pennies or big balls of twine. Heck, there’s even this awesome big rocking chair a few counties over.”

John did not look at all impressed with any of Dean’s mammoth suggestions. Dean gnawed his lip, tried to convince himself that he wasn’t being selfish and that he was doing this to distract John just as much as he was himself. Trying to convince? Yes. Succeeding? Not so much. _Damnit! Where was Cas?_

Dean pulled into one of his favourite greasy spoons heading out of the city. Finally, he had some curiosity from John who perked up when he saw the retro sign and craned his head a little to see out the window. One thing John and Dean shared a love for was diner pie. Dean grinned into the back seat and John smiled tentatively back.

“Look, this place has the best apple pie I’ve come across in this part of the country. You’ll love it. I promise,” Dean said, helping John unbuckle his car seat and step down onto the cracked asphalt. The place didn’t look like much, but it was good. John hesitated a little for a moment before he tugged on Dean’s jacket. Dean smiled gently and lifted his son into his arms.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Monkey,” Dean said.

John gave a little shrug and rested his head on his father’s shoulder. “Sleepy, Daddy. It’s early.”

“That’s true,” Dean conceded. He bit his lip and set John on the wide window ledge before entering the diner. He crouched in front of the boy and made sure to meet green eyes.

“Look John, I know maybe I’m not the greatest of dad’s all right? But I try real hard. We do pretty good, you and me, don’t we?” Dean gently nudged a knuckle against John’s chin.

“Yes Daddy. You’re a real good dad,” John said.

“Thanks Buddy. I know life on the road isn’t exactly easy, but it’s kinda all I know… That said though, I know what it’s like to be dragged from state to state and no-name town to no-name town on the whim of some old guy. Your Pop, Uncle and I, try to do what’s best for you, but sometimes maybe we don’t really understand what that is. So… ah… if you don’t wanna do this and you just want to stay at Grampa Bobby’s we’ll head back there after breakfast. You just gotta tell me, Kiddo.”

John looked away and fidgeted for a moment, twisting tiny fingers over tiny fingers and staring down at his small scuffed and faded black Converse.

Dean felt the tension coil that had gradually dissipated as soon as he got behind the wheel of his baby, begin to build and tighten again. John didn’t want this life, he didn’t ask to be brought into this world of hunters and Dean was just repeating history by doing this all over again. Dean looked down and away, ready to pack up and head back to Bobby’s, for John’s sake. John was what was important now. Dean bit back the sigh as he pushed to his feet.

“Is there really a great big rocking chair?” John asked tentatively.

Dean felt his lips convulse into a grin. “Sure is.”

“Okay… That could be kinda cool,” John smiled shyly.

Dean grinned back. “Great. It’s actually kinda awesome.”

John beamed fully this time and nodded. Dean helped him hop off the window ledge and led him into the diner.

After he and John slid into a booth, Dean waved at Marissa behind the counter. She was a matronly woman with greying hair and sparkling, velvet-brown eyes.

“Well look what blew in, I’ll be darned. Dean Winchester. Haven’t seen that gorgeous face of yours in here for quite some time. What’s all this about now?” she asked as she walked over, notepad already at the ready.

“Taking my boy for a road trip with his old man,” Dean winked at John. John smiled shyly up at Marissa who melted in an instant at his cherubic face.

“My Lord, look what we have here. Dean Winchester a papa. I never would have guessed. And you just bring your boy in here now? Why he’s almost full grown! I’m hurt Dean, real hurt you’d kept this precious boy all to yourself,” Marissa sniffed, her eyes sparkling.

John blushed.

“What’s your name, Sweetness?”

John mumbled his name towards the Formica of the table top.

“John,” Dean translated.

Marissa’s smile was little watery when she looked over at Dean. “Well I’m sure his granddaddy would be real proud.”

“I’d like to think so,” Dean said gently.

“Well goodness! You’ve got me all befuddled and I haven’t even had the decency to ask what you wanted to drink. Shame on you Dean Winchester, that smile of yours still gets this old heart of mine somersaulting,” Marissa mock scolded. “Now, not only that, but you come in with this little angel. Why, you’re gonna give an old girl a heart attack. What will it be, Boys?”

“Sorry Mar,” Dean grinned. “I should watch myself next time. Coffee for me please and Johnny?”

“Chocolate milk,” John whispered.

“No need to be shy around me, Johnny. Got five grandbabies, but there’s always room for one more precious thing in this heart of mine. I’ll be right back with your drinks boys. You ask your daddy what’s good around here, then I’ll get it cooked up right away.”

John watched Marissa bustle behind the counter with inquisitive eyes, he followed her quick efficient movements, then smiled over at Dean. “She’s real nice, Daddy. She had a bright soul.”

Dean was surprised. “You can see that?”

John frowned. “I shouldn’t be able to?”

“No, no… Just… That’s kinda cool, Kiddo. Must have picked that up from Cas,” Dean grinned. Maybe John wasn’t completely cut-off from his angelic nature without Cas around after all. The thought of the blue eyed angel made Dean’s heart clench all over again. Well… he’d share this new discovery with Cas when he came back.

“Daddy do they have banana-chocolate-chip pancakes?” John asked, looking at the menu in front of him. “I don’t see a picture… That says pancake, right?” John pointed.

Dean smiled. “Good job, Monkey. I don’t see them on the menu but I’m sure if you asked Ms. Marissa real nice, she’ll make them special just for you.”

John bit his lip and blushed. “Can you ask?”

Dean looked like he was thinking it over for a second before saying, “I’m sure you’d have a lot more luck if you asked, Johnny. Why not give it a shot? Marissa’s really, really nice. You saw that, right?”

John nodded. “Okay.”

“All right, Boys,” Marissa set down the drinks. “You two all set?”

“I’ll get the big country breakfast, please,” Dean said.

Marissa nodded. “And your boy?”

John looked up and smiled. “Could I maybe get banana-chocolate-chip pancakes, please?”

Dean thought he almost actually saw the woman melt.

“Can’t say no to anything with a face like that,” Marissa said. “I’ll make them up myself.”

“Thank you!” John beamed.

“Why you are most certainly welcome,” Marissa replied. “You raised him right, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks Mar.”

Their food came faster than Dean would have expected and John dug in with relish. It wasn’t long before his little lips were surrounded by chocolate, his green eyes wide in delight. Dean watched fondly as John devoured his breakfast. He remembered meals with his own father and brother, after days spent on the road, only to roll into one more nameless diner in a nowhere town.

He remembered being half-dead on his feet from tiredness, perking up at a kind smile from a waitress as she pushed his meal in front of him. Despite all John Senior’s faults, he had been a pretty good dad when he could. There with a smile or a Band-aide when he or Sam needed it. Just Dad and his boys, on the road.

“Daddy?” John turned a puzzled glance to his father. “Why you staring?”

Dean smiled. “Just ‘cause Johnny. Sorry. Picking up bad habits from your father, huh?”

Right, father, Castiel, other parent. They were a unit, they were _supposed_ to be on these trips together, do these things as a _family_ , while they watched John grow-up. Dean didn’t have to be alone, he shouldn’t have to be alone but it seemed lately, more and more, he was alone. Castiel hadn’t alluded to anything Earth shattering happening up in Heaven, though Castiel had kept things from Dean before.

Dean sighed and ordered them a piece of pie to share. John wouldn’t be able to tackle an entire wedge on his own and Dean wasn’t about to let him have that much sugar anyway. Road trips were for goofing off a little sure, but even Dean knew it wasn’t smart to have a sugar-hyped three-year-old stuck in a car.

When Dean went up to pay, Marissa gave him a parting hug and whispered into his ear, “His momma not around?”

Dean pulled back and flashed a little smile, “Not a mama. A papa… He is but he ah… works a lot.”

“All right, Boy. Make sure you bring him in sometime as well, hopefully then I’ll see that smile of your reach those pretty green eyes you got. Take care Dean,” Marissa patted his cheek.

Dean nodded giving her one last smile, before he scooped John up into his arms and carried the boy back to the car.

xx

When Dean eased the Impala up to the front of Chuck’s house, he couldn’t help but let out a low long whistle at the sight of the place. John too perked his head up when they rolled up, his wide green eyes flashing with curiosity.

“Looks like Chuck got quite the upgrade. Wonder what brought this on?” Dean mused aloud. “Come on, Squirt. Let’s go say ‘hi’ to Uncle Chuck.”

“Uncle?” John asked.

Dean shrugged. “Sure.”

“Oh.”

Dean caught his son’s gaze in the review mirror before sliding out of the Impala and helping to free the boy from his car seat.

“You okay, Monkey?” Dean asked. “Wanna head home?”

“No, Daddy. I’m okay,” John nodded. He almost looked eager to get into the house, now that Dean got a second look at him.

Dean shrugged again, mentally this time and chose not to over analyze the situation. If John was eager, that was all the better.

John jogged up to the front door, his little backpack over his shoulder but knew better than to ring the doorbell without Dean at his back. Dean checked out the well maintained garden and yard, took in the snazzy wood door with frosted glass and quirked a brow. Everything was in shades of white. Dean buzzed. The chime that followed sounded light and almost ethereal. A moment later, Chuck was standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a white button down looking remarkably sober but with his familiar awkward smile in place. He still had his beard but it was neatly trimmed now. A dog barked from his side, it looked like a cocker spaniel crossed with a golden retriever. It was on the smaller side with auburn fur, oddly sparkling eyes and an eager gait.

“Hiya Dean,” Chuck greeted.

“Hey Chuck,” Dean nodded back.

John was peculiarly silent at his side staring wide-eyed at the small man in the threshold.

“This is John.”

“Hi Buddy,” Chuck said kindly. “You wanna come in for a bit, Dean?”

“Yeah, a minute, just to make sure John’s settled… He’s not usually this quiet,” Dean said with a frown. “And hey, you got a dog.”

Chuck shrugged. “Yeah, when Becky left I got a little lonely. This is Gabriel.”

Dean’s eyes shot to his hairline at that pronouncement.

Chuck laughed. “He’s a rescue, came with the name, thought I’d keep it. I know it’s a bit weird given…” Chuck looked meaningfully at John.

Dean understood. A little weird given the namesake of the dog was an _actual_ angel they had known.

“Don’t worry though, he’s real great with basically everything,” Chuck said and Gabriel proved this by happily snuffling at John before proceeding to lick the boy’s bare toes.

John giggled and scratched the dog’s ears.

“Cool,” Dean nodded. “What’s with the house?”

“Oh, it’s super neat actually,” Chuck began eagerly. “Some people over in Japan caught wind of my books and they adapted the story into a manga. They’re in talks to do an anime series. It’s gonna have the angels and everything in it. They’ve sped up the storyline a little, but don’t worry, it’s all going to be different names and slightly modified back story. I was sure of that, I didn’t want another… Well, you know, like before. But the great part is, I’m getting royalties like you wouldn’t believe. _Supernatural_ is a huge hit over there. They eat that stuff up in Japan. Though the ah…” Chuck looked uncomfortable again. “They’re um… a lot more liberal over there and the entire Dean and Castiel thing – or as they are known over there Daisuke and Cassiel – is um… official. They wrote it in.”

Dean quirked a brow before shrugging. “Cool.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting… Huh…”

“What’s Sam’s name?” Dean asked.

“Shouta. Daisuke calls him Shou-chan,” Chuck said.

Dean snickered, “Shoe?”

“No, Shou,” Chuck corrected.

Dean just smirked before turning confused eyes on John, the distraction of the dog was no longer keeping the boy preoccupied and he stared unflinchingly at Chuck. Apparently another thing inherited from Castiel: awkward staring.

“Johnny, come on, Dude, say hello to Uncle Chuck,” Dean said.

“Uncle,” John repeated again, opened his mouth to say something else but seemed to change his mind and smiled instead. “Hello,” the boy said shyly.

“Hi, it’s really great to meet you, John,” Chuck said in return.

“So you think you’ll be able to handle this?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I think we’ll be fine. What do you think, John?” Chuck turned to the boy.

John nodded more eagerly than Dean expected and once again Dean’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “All right then,” the green-eyed man said. “If you’re all good here… Give me a kiss, Monkey. Daddy be back to get you in a bit. Be good for Chuck, all right?”

John hugged Dean tightly and kissed him before nodding and pulling away with a grin.

Dean rose and gave the boy and slightly older man one last uncertain look before waving and letting himself out.

When the door shut and the Impala roared away from the curb, John spun and stared up at Chuck.

“You’re not my uncle,” the boy blurted. “You… you’re…”

Chuck winked and held a finger to his lips. “Our little secret for now though, all right John?”

“I can’t… This is… _Grandfather_.”

Chuck ruffled the boy’s hair and picked him, resting the boy against his hip. “I’m about three and a half years over do with spoiling you rotten. So what do you say? Want the biggest banana split you’ve ever seen in your life?”

John bobbed eagerly and still with undisguised awe. With the carefree whim of the child he was, John wrapped his little arms around the most powerful being in the known universe and gave him a tight hug.

Gabriel pranced at their heels and hurried into the kitchen with them. He so wanted some of that massive banana split, even if he had to lick it off of the little snot-factory’s face.

xx

Dean just about had his lighter sparked when he was hurtled across the grass and into a nearby headstone. He grunted in pain, hearing the weathered stone crack under the force of his weight. He scrambled up and away, aiming a round of rock-salt clear at the spirit’s face and hurried back to the open grave he had spent far too long digging. It was a lot harder to do with one person.

Once again, he had his lighter in hand and was just about to spark it, when he was pushed again but this time face first into the recently opened grave. He shuddered as he came nose-to-nasal-cavity with the skeleton of the young man who was haunting the children’s park a few miles up the road. Now, not only was he dirty and much closer to a moldering body than he wanted to be tonight, he was also covered in traces of lighter fluid.

“Asshole!” Dean shouted. He climbed the six feet out of the grave – more like scrambled – and was shocked when his assent was made all the easier by a firm hand on his wrist, hauling him clear of the moist earth.

Castiel turned casually to the open pit and almost lazily flicked his hand, setting the remains alight.

The spirit screamed and vanished.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed in surprise and happiness.

Another casual flick and a fond smile from Castiel and Dean was healed and cleaned. “Hello Dean.”

Dean looked down at himself, flexed his shoulders and whistled. “Pretty sweet Cas, you didn’t even have to touch me… Regrettably,” Dean winked.

“Your injuries were superficial, they did not require a more hands-on approach, though I can remedy that for much more pleasant reasons,” Castiel said, a slight smirk curling his lips and eyes glittering.

Dean leered for a beat then his smile softened, he crossed the short distance between them and hugged Castiel tightly, kissing him in the cool air of the cemetery and then he remembered where they were. “Ah… maybe get out of here first… There’s only so much grave desecration I’m comfortable with.”

Castiel looked around them. “Yes, quite.”

They were in the Impala within seconds and Dean heard the sound of his shovel and supplies thudding hollowly into their places in the closed trunk.

“Huh,” Dean said idly. “You’re awesome.”

“I’m aware,” Castiel smiled. “Where is John? Did Bobby and Sam return sooner than we expected?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably as he started the Impala and pulled onto the street, before he said, “Ah… no I left him with Chuck.”

“Chuck,” Castiel parroted. “As in the perpetually inebriated Prophet of the Lord.”

“Yeah, well, he’s dried out. No visions any longer, which means no alcohol. Besides, John warmed up to him surprisingly quickly, even for John,” Dean shrugged.

“Oh,” Castiel remarked. “Very well.”

“It was only a few hours that he was there,” Dean said. “I didn’t leave him overnight or anything.”

“I trust your judgement, Dean,” Castiel said.

“I felt guilty about it since I thought of it,” Dean admitted. “What had you away so long, anyway?”

Castiel looked chagrined. “I’m very sorry. There was a small uprising while I was away. There was no time to let you know. It was a difficult battle, long, but we suffered no major losses.”

“Still angels rallying for Raph, huh?” Dean asked sadly.

“A few, yes. Fewer by the day, we had no warning of this uprising though. They were very discrete. It’s unsettling. Regardless though, it’s over and I am happy to be home. I look forward to seeing John.”

“Well, we’ll pick him up and maybe grab dinner together, what do you think?” Dean offered with a smile.

“Yes, that sounds pleasant,” Castiel agreed.

The trip over to Chuck’s didn’t take long at all and Castiel looked intrigued at the rather more impressive house than he remembered. He also felt something odd about the place, something familiar – like family or Heaven. Castiel frowned and got uneasily out of the car. Dean shot Castiel a slightly bewildered look, remembering that John, too, had acted odd when they first pulled up to the place. Though, John’s reaction had been eager whereas Castiel’s was decidedly wary.

“This is the Prophet Chuck’s home?” Castiel asked coolly.

Dean recognized Castiel’s taunt and guarded posture. “Dude, it’s Chuck,” Dean remarked.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed.

“Then relax.”

Castiel shot Dean a dark look before striding towards the door. Dean jogged at his heels, reaching out to catch the angel’s shoulder. Castiel was inside before Dean could stop him, which left Dean to struggle with the door and push his way in. He wasn’t expecting the look of utter shock and betrayal splayed across Castiel’s face when he did finally make his way inside.

“Castiel,” Chuck whispered.

“You,” Castiel shook his head, staring at Chuck. “This whole time? You were here this _entire_ time?”

“Castiel please,” Chuck tried.

“John, come here at once,” Castiel commanded.

“Papa—”

“Now! John,” Castiel growled.

John spared Chuck a sad look before rushing to Castiel’s side. The angel swept John up on his arms, holding him close.

“How could you let all of this happen?” Castiel asked in disbelief. “Everything. If you were here the entire time, _how_ could you let everything happen?”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, a sick feeling growing in his gut as he stared at Chuck’s old, sad eyes. Eyes he had seen shining out on him from someone else’s face – his father’s.

“Castiel,” Chuck said quietly.

“I _looked_ for you. I _prayed_ for you to help me. Yet you did _nothing_. I _hurt_ people, Father.” Castiel gritted. “How could you allow my brothers to do what they did? I _fell_.”

“I did what I could, Castiel. _Please_ believe me when I say that. Sometimes a father has to let his children leave the nest,” Chuck said desperately.

“Papa…” John said.

Castiel glared at Chuck. “Don’t you _ever_ come near my son again.” With a frightful gust of wind, Castiel disappeared.

“Cas!” Dean called to the ceiling. Then turned, uncertain, to the deceptively small man before him. “Chuck… Um… God… Sir… I…”

Chuck smiled, familiar and crooked. “Let him go, Dean. I understand… “

“Um… I…” Dean stuttered, not sure how to treat this man now.

“Dean, don’t act differently around me, okay?” Chuck said in a small voice. “I’ve been the same guy this entire time. It’s not like Morgan Freeman came along wanting a vacation and asked me to take over, or anything.”

Dean snorted at that, quietly amused and admittedly incredulous. “Why keep it quiet for so long?”

“Do you blame me?” Chuck asked softly, sadly, scratching his dog’s head. The retriever-cross whined quietly and nuzzled against Chuck. “What would you do if you lost control of your kids and they nearly destroyed the world, huh? I was embarrassed and… tired. I just thought I’d rest for a while and then… Then everything got out of control and, as omnipotent as I am, there are still rules. The wheel tilted too far off its axis and I couldn’t stop it with a snap of my fingers. Things don’t work that way. I intervened where I could but free will is free will, you know?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I guess…” Not knowing what more to say Dean waved a little awkwardly and turned to the door. “Um… thanks for watching John and everything.”

“Of course,” Chuck said. “He’s my grandson.”

Dean hesitated for a moment longer then began walking. His hand was just on the knob when Chuck spoke up again, “Dean!”

Dean turned. “Yeah?”

“Can you ah… Can you tell Castiel that I’m sorry?”

Dean sighed again and rubbed his eyes, turning back towards this Supreme Being looking just like any other miserable, apologetic father. “I… He’s not gonna get over this easy, Chuck. He died, twice. Nearly three times. He’s pretty angry with you,” Dean said. “And if you were my dad… Well, I’m not sure if I’d get over it either. You probably did what you thought was right at the time but… You aren’t just an average dad, Man. More is expected of you. To be honest I’m not too happy with you either.”

Chuck nodded, looking down. “Yeah… I know.”

“I’ll try and tell him,” Dean added.

“Thank you, Dean,” Chuck whispered.

Dean finally got free of the house and fell back against the closed door, trying to ignore how much his body was trembling. He’d just chastised fucking _God_ for Christ’s sake and he was still standing. Chuck was _God_. Dean blinked, reeling from this not-so-little revelation and trying to understand why he wasn’t more shocked. Or perhaps he was too shocked to really react. A part of him always knew that God was his father-in-law but it had been disassociated knowledge. Now not only had he just met the Being face-to-face – a fact only a handful of angels can even boast to – he also realized _God_ was a nerdy little writer who he threatened to _kill_ a few years back.

“How am I still alive?” Dean muttered. “Jesus _Christ_.”

Dean stumbled unsteadily to the car to find it vacant of angels. Dean faced the far too long drive back by himself, while still reeling from the knowledge of what he just found out.

xx

When Dean returned to Bobby’s, it was quiet and dark. Dean checked on John and saw he was tucked away in bed, which meant Castiel was either in or around the house keeping a careful eye out, but lost in his own thoughts. Dean climbed up to the attic and saw one of the gable windows open, curtains blowing in a faint nighttime breeze. Dean climbed out to see Castiel sitting on the roof, a bottle of whisky between his drawn up knees.

“That helping?” Dean nodded to the bottle.

Castiel snorted bitterly. “What do you think?”

Dean didn’t respond, he knew full well one little bottle would have absolutely no effect on the angel. He sat down next to his angel and partner, sitting close enough so their sides were flush together. Castiel leaned into him slightly and Dean brought his arm up and around Castiel’s shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on the blue-eyed angel’s temple.

“Here all this time, Dean,” Castiel said, so softly Dean nearly missed it. “He was here all along and yet did _nothing_. All the pain and suffering the last one-hundred and twenty years and _nothing_. If He was only going to walk away, why create life at all? I almost _lost_ you and you _did_ lose Sam. My Father abandoned me when I needed him the most and then suddenly He’s back? What does He want from us now, after we gave _everything_.”

“Cas, I…” Dean closed his eyes and tried again. “You know I know a thing or two about absent fathers, I’ve told you that before and I can’t begin to think how they thought what they were doing was right. The idea of leaving John even for a few hours tore me up inside, so to leave him behind like our fathers left us… I can’t even imagine. Though, I… talked to… Chuck for a minute, after you left and I don’t think He wants anything more than to make up for lost time, you know? He said… He wanted me to tell you He was sorry, Cas.”

“Sorry? He’s _sorry_?”

“I know, I told him you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive.”

“Forgive. That’s supposed to be my… ‘thing,’” Castiel remarked bitterly. “Though I don’t know how to process what I’ve just discovered. I don’t know what to do. Dean… what do I _do_?”

“Honest truth?”

“Always.”

“I’m not saying you have to forgive Him, or even start to like Him again, I want you to know that first off. You don’t have to do anything for you but… If it were my dad back from the dead or missing or whatever and he’d want to be to John, what he never was to Sam and me, well, I’d let him. If Chuck… God… Your _Father_ , wants to be a grandparent to John then you should allow him that opportunity. If you don’t, it’s John who suffers, you know?”

“Yes, I understand,” Castiel said quietly and drank most of the remaining bottle of whiskey in one long swallow. “I think… I think I need to think about it before I make any decisions, but I do understand what you are saying.”

Dean nodded and then snaked the bottle from Castiel’s loose hold, drinking a small amount himself. He would never get drunk while John was in the house and he knew Castiel would never either, but a bit once in a while was no harm. And after the encounter he had only a few hours before, he needed something to take the edge off.

“This encounter however, gave me a – what you would call – a wake-up call. I’ve been away far more frequently than I should have been lately and I’m very sorry Dean, truly. I never intended for any of that but sometimes things… Get complicated,” Castiel explained regretfully.

“I know Cas, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yes, well, regardless, I will strive to put in a better effort of contacting you and John in the future if something like what happened this past week arises again. If it is within my power to do so, then I will check-in on you, the both of you.”

Dean smiled. “Thanks Cas, I’d really appreciate that. I’ll leave you to think, now, all right? You know where to find me.”

“Yes, thank you, Dean.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dean placed a chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips then rose and squeezed the angel’s shoulder comfortingly. Castiel reached up and snagged Dean’s hand before the larger man could get too far.

“Dean.”

Dean turned, expectant.

“I will _never_ leave you and will _never **ever**_ leave, John,” Castiel said earnestly.

“I know Cas, me too.”

“I love you.”

**End**


End file.
